Spanish lessons

My parents first arrived on the island of Gran Canaria in 1966 with Nicola, 6 months old. My father had graduated in Horticulture at Wye University and had been offered a trainee manager position with a flower company called Framptons. They stayed 3 years, in which time Julia was born. My father was sent back to England with the prospect of going back to the Canaries as Director at a later stage. I was born in England during this time.

In March 1974, we moved into an old 1950s style Spanish townhouse in Las Palmas on a busy main road called Pío XII. The rooms were big and the ceilings high. The house had 3 floors and 5 bathrooms, none of them that ever worked properly.

Pío XII

My mother in those days wore Scholls, they were all the fashion. They came in very handy when it came to cockroaches. Living in Las Palmas, cockroaches were a permanent health hazard. My mother had their extermination off to a fine art. At the very sight of one scuttling across the floor, with lightening speed she would whip off one of her Scholls and whack, squash the critter with blinding accuracy. Its legs would fidget as it lay on its back, feelers still moving. Out came the broom and one swipe, it was out the door.

My mother was insistent on 2 things when we arrived on the island. Firstly, that we would take swimming lessons and secondly, that we would learn how to speak Spanish. Our swimming lessons lead us to the formidable doña Bernarda, a small athletic lady, well turned out with silver grey hair. She swam at our local pool and offered to give us Spanish lessons.

An incredibly disciplined lady, she approached our lessons with the same gusto.

She expected nothing less than perfection. Sitting at the dining room table, Nicola and Julia would learn the main verbs and recite, I would learn the alphabet. I don’t know how many times I recited the alphabet but if there was one mistake, she would send me right back to the beginning again.

At 3 years old I was terrified of this forceful woman but what she did teach me is that practice makes perfect. I never ever forgot my Spanish alphabet. We heard many years later that Doña Bernarda was still swimming, regularly and competitively, right into her early nineties.

Pío XII in the 70s, my father barbecuing with friends